Connecting with God through poetic articulations of lived, embodied experience–engaging texts from the Revised Common Lectionary for Christian churches, other biblical and spiritual texts, and evocations of the divine in rituals and other public events–always accepting lived reality as a primary source of divine revelation and mystery.

Reflection offered on January 1, 2017 at Metropolitan Community Church of Washington, D.C.

God gives us so much. With the psalmist we give thanks and praise, but the singer also knows we may not be all we think we are. What are human beings that God cares about us? Is it because we are created to be divine franchise agents, with everything at our feet–presumably God knew what She was doing, but polluted lakes and streams, endangered species, stripped-mine hillsides, fouled air, war, poverty, and group hates and ugly stories about those not like us, may create skepticism in parts of heaven not to mention earth.

There is a time for all that, of course, but so much more, or maybe less, I mean the simple ways of living in peace and hope and love and joy that God intends which could take up all our time if we accepted the gift of God: that all people should eat, drink, and enjoy the results of their hard work. It seems so simple, and it is, but not easy, never easy when every day in so may ways we are tempted by the siren calls of those who claim to have something better: building walls to keep people out, a bigger house or better car and internet to go faster, private schools to increase odds of Ivy League admissions, droning, bombing everyone who looks at us wrong, making sure there are enough guns to shoot every person, adult and child, at least once, and kill as many of them as necessary to keep stocks rising along with income gaps widening between rich and poor at home, even slowing the climb of other nations out of the rut of domination.

But its not too late. It is never too late with God–that is what makes God, God. She, or He, or They, refuse, despite ancient testimonies| to the contrary, to give up on us, you and me, too, and the others, even those whose agendas seem foreign and evil. No one is a hopeless case with God.

The divine calendar is not ours, so there has been only one new year, how many millions of years ago we do not know, and God is not counting, but this is the moment of our latest attempt at renewal, and in truth we can make the most of it—yes, with resolutions of self-improvement if we must, but even more powerfully by a simple, again not easy, commitment to listen to our individual and collective souls where rests and rises the voice and hope and love of God. And justice, too.

Let us not forget justice, divine justice which is not to punish or even chastise but to repair, heal, move us to change, to do differently, better than last time.Self-care is important, essential, but with God the we is as important as the I, and the test of fealty to our holy parent is how well we treat the rest of our human family, the ones God loves as much as God loves us, not more not less, often in different ways but still with an arm around all and each of us at all times, everywhere without end. World without end.

Don’t we know not to fear what is coming, because of what God has given, and continues to give, even when we don’t earn it? If we truly know and savor and trust what God has provided, can we not share in the bounty willingly, freely, joyously, generously, so that no one goes without, no child is hungry, no refugee is turned away from some safe place, no young Black men and trans women hunted and slaughtered on our streets, no body is without health care, no holy prayers cursed regardless what God or gods or heavens are invoked.

This is the year God is making, again, for us, with us, so let us rejoice and be glad in it, and show our gratitude by making this the Year of Our God and All God’s people, taking care of each human other and all the rest of Creation, too, finally rising to meet the divine challenge issued, earthly opportunity given, at dawn on the first new year long ago, to be Eden on earth again, and forever.

About this poem . . . . Two biblical readings without a real story presented a challenge for me, but I soon realized that the gratitude, reality, and hope present in them fit for today. This is of course the gift of Scripture, and indeed in some way or other all inspired writing (whether called “holy” or not). And as I finished the earliest draft, I remembered poem inspired by Judy Chicago’s famous art installation, The Dinner Party, with its evocation of Eden. God must keep hoping we shall yet understand, accept, and celebrate the gift of life caught in that ancient story.

A Reflection in Response to the 3rd Sunday in Advent, Year A

Text Focus: Psalm 146:5-10, Luke 1:45b-55, Matthew 11:2-11 Click here for all biblical textsHappy are those whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in their God—truth known by John the Baptizer and Mary too. Can it be so with us? Dare we open our eyes enough to see God at work in every moment, read signs of the times and feel joy as God takes us on new journeys in faith? John did, and it led him to prison and death, while Mary’s life grew both inside and all about her, she proclaiming the gift of God’s favor, mercy and strength.

They seem so different, rough-clothed, even angry, on one hand (though might he be sweet in his own way), soft-spoken, gentle on the other (but so strong as well); yet both open to what God delivers— promise of salvation through another born to her, seen by him; she births, nurtures, the sprout, he witnesses the full-grown tree standing tall, speaking true in biblical witness in pages close together but separated by decades, yet saga tells us their births—John and Jesus—were close in time and even blood so they are cousins through their mothers’ line.

We know stories of these men as they live and die, almost side by side in Jerusalem and countryside, to carry God’s word to those who want to believe so long as it does not cost more than they, or we, will pay. If Mary had known she would weep at the foot of the cross on which hung her beloved son would then she praise or curse her fate, and his? And John, and his mother, cousin Elizabeth, would they then sing or speak in joy and love for the God of Jacob? The answer is yes, they did not count the cost dear but the chance to witness so much more than ever they dreamed in ordinary lives, a gift so rich their hearts ring full, Mary’s praises, John’s hand pointing to the one he came to announce.

Can it be so with us? Will we birth and nurture what God places in us trusting Holy One who is our soul and knows us inside out, from glowing darkness of God within, calling us to abandon old and narrow habits that block our own sacred living in a world that wants control and substitutes order for life? Will we cast out fear and choose joy, to take a chance on God?

I. I have seen the Lord! proclaims Mary Magdalene, beginning a new, never-ending adventure In faith. Again, God has worked through the unlikely, now a woman whom some once considered tainted, but the only person in all four gospels to have testified, from direct observation and even divine exposition, to the resurrection of Jesus, she called the apostle to the apostles by one early church father—an astounding claim by a patriarch, a sign of things turned upside down, reflecting the wonder of the empty tomb, God’s power working through one of us—this Nazarene man— to do what many call impossible.

II. Colorful eggs, hopping bunnies, are nice, even fun, but a man rising alive from a tomb of the dead— now that’s worth the world, which is what God intended to say: I want all to live full of joy and love and peace, to trust divine power more than any other, to know that I, God, am always here, at the ready, present for all life which comes from me eternally.

III. That is why the empty tomb is such a potent marker, even as it is not an easy marketing symbol any more than the stone rolled away. But when Mary and the others arrived they were not seeking the cross. They were coming to care for the dead body of their Lord. That they did not find it, that in one account Mary found him and talked to him, that is the news, that is the miracle, that is the sign of the victory over death-dealing injustice and hate that affects and infests us all to this day. We can’t get to the empty tomb without the cross, but what truly is the mark of God’s reign in this world—a bloodied man-made tree erected by an ugly regime based on the fear and anger of otherwise good, faithful people, or the fact that ultimately none of us need be governed by such ugliness and fear and anger?

IV. We crucify people all the time, on the streets, In jails, subway stations, public markets, as lethally— though sometimes with less agony—and legally as was done by Pilate and his minions, when what we need is resurrection, new life, a raising, rising, of walking dead to live not as the world makes it happen but full, vibrant, vital human beings striding forth Lazarus-like from tombs, theirs and ours, to claim divine birthright belonging to all. God is ready to empty our tombs.

V. What are we waiting for?

@Robin Gorsline 2016 lectionarypoetics.org Please use the credit line above when publishing this poem in any formAbout this poem . . .I have long strained against using the cross as the universal symbol of Christian faith and life, because it is the mark of neither. It is the sign of evil and ugliness, of human fear gone amok, unchecked by those in authority. Their actions were understandable, so very human, but the result on that hill is not, to me at least, the marker of my faith. My faith lies in the empty tomb, in the natural boulder rolled away that death could emerge and live again. That is Easter faith, the truly good news.

Will the stones need to shout out now or will our voices, our presence, raise enough rejoicing to unsettle powers who mean to do all the talking, their own agendas more vital than God’s, so they tell themselves, and many bound to listen due to economic necessity or endless media repetition, never-ending sound loops of the same loud voices with the latest offer that in truth leaves everything except the packaging the same?

We need now to take to the streets waving palms yes and placards too— justice for all, love is the way— and our arms raised in hosannas drowning out tired old voices, but more, calling forth our shared power to create something new with stones rejected, not throwing them but laying them down as a new foundation, cornerstone of listening to each other, choosing to stay open to ideas from those we barely knew existed until we found ourselves next to them in the crowd cheering the rabbi (is it true he’s from Nazareth, how weird is that?) riding the borrowed bicycle leading the ragtag parade of the powerless who actually like us have great— really the greatest—power at the tip and base of our prayers.

Now is the time to get off the sidewalk, out of the bars into the streets we used to say when pride was our parade’s objective, but now we are called to protect immigrants, stop assaults against Black men, stand up for transgender youth and Black women, get health care for all God’s children, finally care about native people remaining from our genocide, help warring leaders to begin talking, listening, so no more children need die as collateral damage.

This is the day God has made for us to wake up, grow up, look up, act up, stand up, live up to our heritage as the people of God led by the One on the bike who heals, exhorts, raises the dead, loves our enemies as much as he loves us, and never ever, never stops feeding us, all of us, heavenly food we need— and crave if we are honest with ourselves— to live by the beat, the truth, the beauty, of God

@Robin Gorsline 2016 lectionarypoetics.org
Please use the credit line above when publishing this poem in any form

About this poem . . .When Pharisees seek to silence Jesus and the Holy Spirit working through the disciples and others in the crowd, really the movement of God in the world, Jesus reminds them, and us, that God’s voice will not be stopped, even if the stones have to shout. But God depends on us to do the talking, which means we need to listen for and to God, and then take the risk of speaking up, again and again.

Advent’s third Sunday known for joy a pink candle no one told John so he called out the brood of snakes he saw slithering around claiming holy lives keeping warm with coats some need more cheating others of funds bullies for personal gain. No mincing words still people thronged wondering who John is and he tells them I am the harbinger the forerunner of the One who will bless and baptize and toss into the fire those who fail to pay attention. This is Good News? Directions yes but a recipe for happiness not happiness overrated anyway Joy is the bigger deal lasting a lifetime no matter what comes even a crotchety prophet who points in the right direction we fear to go sheep bleating stammering backs up unwilling to be the first to go through the gate except to buy presents and pretend all is well while the world continues teetering closer to the edge of oblivion fail-safe trigger fingers cocked just in case figures on the chess board bolt their squares. In God We Trust we say but it is bombs armies soldiers sailors marines tanks guns generals admirals leaders who act tough we trust more markets tycoons corporations stocks bonds mortgages too profiting perhaps most of all But prophetic preaching was long ago another time another world a curiosity in the shop of spiritual memorabilia. Still he speaks. Will we catch the truth of joy within bearing salvation fruit to share with a frightened angry torn weary world that only knows nine shopping days ‘til Christmas?